by Scott Ferry

and the lovely lady describes the block 

in my fifth chakra and how it swallows

up my words before they can escape.

My father barges into the metaphorical

room, because we speak on cell phones.

She stops, stammers, her voice

reveals an edge of bewilderment.

Your father wants to tell you

in no uncertain terms

that you are not going to leave early

like he did. That was his road, not yours.

If you look, both sides of the family 

are full of stubborn people 

that live a long time.

She laughs, pauses, like someone

just caught her in her bathroom

while she was brushing her teeth,

blared orders at her through a megaphone, 

then shut the door again. 

That seems legit, I think. 

I don’t believe she could fake that.